They say everyone dreams, but a lot of people forget as soon as they wake up. So perhaps I'm just a dream-rememberer.
It's not always a great thing. Sometimes I have nightmares that leave me depressed or anxious for the rest of the day. But the vast entertainment I derive from the other dreams is ample compensation. Some of my best memories never happened.
It's hard to translate, though, from dream-space to real-space. Sometimes I'll dream a beautiful song, and I'm sure I'll be able to write down the words and hum the tune as soon as I get out of bed . . . but it's not possible. It feels like Lucy trying to recall the story in the Magician's Book just after she finished reading it: "How can I have forgotten? It was about a cup and a sword and a tree and a green hill, I know that much. But I can't remember and what shall I do?"
All this is just a prelude to explain that whenever I can glean some shreds of a dream and render them in real-space, I'm inordinately pleased.
As you can probably guess, I had one of these lovely, fun dreams last night, and as soon as I woke from it, I staggered out of bed, grabbed a piece of paper, and scrawled a little sketch and a few words. It was a page from the scrapbook of a princess I was helping to rescue.
Later in the day, that sketch and those words were enough for me to re-create the page, with the help of Google image search and the Gimp. And here it is:
To be honest, I found it very moving.